


breathaway

by broblerone



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Communication, Dirty Talk, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Komaeda has a complicated relationship with sex: the fic, Komaeda uses they/he pronouns, M/M, Nonbinary Character, POV Second Person, Porn with Feelings, hinata is a good boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26249773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broblerone/pseuds/broblerone
Summary: Komaeda Nagito is a person full of contradictions. Hinata wants to understand all of them.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 7
Kudos: 147





	breathaway

**Author's Note:**

> couple things to note: komaeda is masculine agender and uses they/he pronouns, this takes place post-sdr2, and i wrote this all in one eight-hour burst. second person pov from hinata's perspective. stan komahina!

Komaeda has been acting strange recently.

For the deliberately obtuse, that statement might be worth an eyeroll— Komaeda _always_ acts strange, right? From their nervous self-soothing habits of holding themself or rubbing their arms, to their inclination to babble about things the uninitiated might write off as word salad, it’s hard to argue that Komaeda’s usual behavior is “normal.” The fact that he’s not as obsessed with hope as he was in high school doesn’t change that.

That notion pisses you off. Sure, they might not act like everyone else, but they’re not as unpredictable as everyone makes them out to be. Just because they don’t follow the norm doesn’t mean they don’t have something they call “normal!” Once you get to know them, they’re not all that hard to follow. They’re cheeky and playful when they’re happy. They’re withdrawn and polite when they’re sad. They’re volatile and dramatic when they’re stressed.

Around you, he’s friendly, a little impish, a little coy, equal parts bashful and and unabashed. They’ll tease you until you squawk in response, and when you retort they flush sweet pink in kind. He’s full of contradictions, but they’re contradictions that mirror your own perfectly. You’ve never found someone as effortless to be around as them.

Komaeda isn’t nearly as hard to understand as everyone says they are. That’s how you can tell that something is up.

It started the other day. The two of you have steadily been taking things further, but only by inches at a time. Linking pinkies turned into holding hands, turned into sitting with your thighs touching, turned into cupping each others’ cheeks, turned into chaste kisses, turned into _real_ kisses, and after nearly two months of buildup, the two of you made out for the first time. It all happened so easily. You leaned in to kiss them, their hand came up to curl in your hair, your hands smoothed down their sides. He teased you for being eager and promptly shut up when you took their bottom lip between your teeth. It made them moan. It was quiet, but you heard it.

It didn’t go any further than kissing and necking, but the two of you still had to straighten yourselves out a little before you could go sit out on the beach like you’d planned. Komaeda seemed just as flustered as you were. Every time your thumbs brushed against each other, holding hands on the walk there, he would giggle out the butterflies just like you. It was totally foreign to you, the feeling of being so in tune with another person. It was amazing. That whole night was amazing. You kissed him on the corner of the mouth when you dropped him off at his cabin afterward, and the way he smiled at you made you feel like a brand new person.

But life is never quite so simple, is it?

Ever since that night, Komaeda has seemed so… _uncomfortable_ around you. Their usual playful demeanor has since been replaced with their reserved mask of polite smiles and total avoidance. Whenever they don’t manage to sidestep your advances completely, they refuse to spend any more time with you than necessary. You try to reassure them that you just want to talk, that you just want to know what’s going on so you can help, but that only ever makes them shut the conversation down faster.

You don’t know what you did wrong. Do they regret going so far with you? Did you unknowingly cross a boundary? You thought he was enjoying himself just like you were. He never _seemed_ uncomfortable. Anxiety gnaws at the pit of your stomach— and admittedly, you spent a day or so totally consumed by it. That first night after Komaeda started brushing you off, you went back to your cabin midway through dinner and spent the rest of the night in an anxious daze. You drifted in and out of sleep, and when things weren’t better between you in the morning, you came perilously close to crying in front of everyone at breakfast. You barely made it back to your cabin before the thought that you’d really hurt them overtook you.

You’re still anxious, but you know you need to stop worrying yourself sick about it. Nothing will change if you don’t man up and do something about this. You need to talk to Komaeda. If they freak out and tell you that they never want to see you again, then that’s _fine,_ but you need to hear them say it. You need to know.

You’re prepared for a real uphill battle in convincing them to talk to you. You’re acutely, painfully aware of just how stubborn they’re capable of being. You find them alone in the library and, after five whole minutes of psyching yourself out, you approach them. You can do this. As long as you’re firm, you’re sure you can do this.

“Komaeda,” you start, and your voice immediately wobbles, betraying _exactly_ how scared shitless you are, “we really need to talk.”

Great. You sounded completely pathetic. You prepare yourself for the same polite avoidance you’ve been met with for the past three days, resigned to slink back to your cabin defeated and kind of nauseous.

But Komaeda, as they are often wont to do, surprises you. They smile a little apologetically and close their book, letting their shoulders drop ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, Hinata-kun,” they mumble. You prepare yourself for the worst. You can hear your heart slamming against your eardrums. “You’re right. I’ve been a little immature the past few days, haven’t I?”

What? You blink, dumbfounded, mouth opening and closing as you desperately search for a response. Did you hallucinate that? Are you dreaming? It couldn’t have been that easy, right? Not after how much they’ve fought you on this over the last couple of days! You can feel the tips of your ears heating up, and you know you must look pretty ridiculous because Komaeda giggles airily. They at least have the decency to cover their mouth with the end of their left arm. (They don’t tend to wear their prosthetic much, these days.) 

Komaeda sets their book aside and stands up, leaving the blanket they had draped over their lap in a heap on the sofa. It’s frankly adorable, the way he keeps blankets in the library because he gets cold so easily and there’s no one around to steal them, and you’ve found him curled up asleep under them with a book still open on his lap more than once, and it makes your heart flutter because it reminds you of the reason you fell in love with him in the first place, and—

Komaeda giggles again and brushes your bare arm with their chilly hand. The heat in your ears creeps down into your cheeks. Even when you’re frustrated with them, you can’t help the way they make you feel. “Don’t pout, Hinata-kun,” they croon. You’re about to insist that you’re not pouting, but they cut you off. “Let’s go back to my cabin, okay? We can talk there.”

The walk back to Komaeda’s cabin is a little tense, but not nearly as tense as every other interaction you’ve had for the past few days. You’re all the way back at square one, pinkies linked tight together, but it doesn’t feel awkward. Maybe true love is feeling at ease around someone even when you’re both uneasy. Maybe being around Komaeda is enough to make you happy on its own. 

Maybe being around Komaeda makes you think a lot cheesier shit than usual. You let out a quiet, exasperated breath. Komaeda unlocks the door to their cabin.

You sit down next to Komaeda on the edge of their bed. You’re looking at the wall, trying to figure out exactly what to say, but you can tell when they start rubbing anxiously at their arm by the rustle of their parka. You’re no stranger to nervous habits yourself— your nailbeds really hate you for it— but you’re not quite as reliant on them as Komaeda is. Still, you could never judge him for it. You know he has a lot going on in that head of his. 

You have to say something. You can’t just keep sitting here in awkward silence.

“...Did I do something wrong?”

Komaeda bristles guiltily, squeezing their arm a little tighter. You feel the muscles in your abdomen tense.

“No… It’s not that.” Komaeda straightens out a little from the way he’d started to hunch in on himself and gives you his default chipper smile, the one you can tell is fake. “You didn’t do anything to hurt me, so please don’t worry about it!” You frown.

“You don’t have to lie to me..!”

“I’m not lying.” Their smile vanishes, lips pushed into a flat line. You can tell they’re serious, but that only confuses you further. If you didn’t hurt them, then why were they acting so uncomfortable around you? What did you do to make them feel so tense? They shift to cross their arms and hold themself. “It’s nothing you did, so it’s okay, right?” Their lips twitch like they’re trying to smile again, but their knuckles are white from gripping their arm so hard. 

“No, that’s wrong!” You don’t mean to shout, but you can’t help yourself. How can he not see how badly you want to understand him? Your chest is tight with the ache of seeing him so clearly upset and your head is swirling with too many thoughts to make sense of. You groan, eyes squeezed shut. You know you won’t be able to parse any of your feelings without saying them out loud. You always need to put them in a space where you can see them outside of your own head. 

“Hinata-kun..?”

You take a deep breath and open your eyes. Komaeda’s looking at you with an expression you can’t exactly place, somewhere between worry and the first whispers of realization. You only realize your hands are balled up when you unfurl one to rub at the back of your neck.

“It… It hurts my feelings when you shut me out like that, Komaeda.” You look down at your lap, too shy to look at him directly. You’re still not the most confident in your ability to express your feelings out loud like this. It’s kind of terrifying, but… they haven’t spoken up yet, even though you’ve paused. They’re listening. They want to know how you feel, just like you want to know how they feel, and knowing that helps.

“I know that there are a lot of things you can’t talk about… and I understand that! I mean, I would never want to make you talk about something that would really freak you out! But…” You wring your hands together. Your heart is racing a mile a minute. “But, when you avoid me, it makes me feel like it’s something you’re hiding because you think I can’t handle it, or that I wouldn’t care.” Your voice starts to waver. “And that… really hurts. Because I want to understand everything about you, Komaeda. I’ve always wanted that. That’s never changed, not since day one.”

You don’t realize that Komaeda’s stopped clinging to themself until their hand settles over your wringing ones. They lace their fingers with yours. Once again, you’ve moved from linking pinkies to holding hands. You let your shoulders sink down from their rigid station near your ears. 

“...I really am a selfish, pitiful little whelp, aren’t I?” Your eyes shoot open wide and you turn to them, ready to hold them and talk them down— god, you were too harsh on them, you should have been more careful about the way you were talking to them— but they chuckle lightly, cheeks dusted pink. They wave the end of their free arm in apology. “Er… I mean to say, I didn’t realize how the way I acted would make you feel.” You let out a breath and visibly decompress, which makes them laugh again.

“Sorry,” they say. “I’m trying. It just slips out sometimes.” You squeeze his hand.

“I know. It’s alright. I’m glad you at least recognize when you’re doing it, now.” 

Komaeda gives a short hum of affirmation, shifting their legs so they’re criss-crossed, and looks down at the floor. They look like they’re thinking about what to say next, so you keep your fat mouth shut and let them. There’s a reason why you’re not confident in vocalizing your feelings, and it’s because you’ve fucked it up more times than you can count. You decide to take this time to appreciate the way his hand is slowly warming up in yours.

God, he’s pretty when he’s thinking. He’s pretty all the time.

Eventually, he speaks up, picking his head up but keeping his gaze trained loosely on the floor.

“I was… I _am,”_ he says, picking his words out carefully like each one could be the cut wire that sets off the bomb, “nervous to tell you about this. I’m… scared, because I’m disgusting and I don’t want—” 

They cut themself off and you squeeze their hand. They squeeze yours back. They try again. “ _Because,_ it makes me… feel… ashamed,” their voice trembles, and so does their hand, “and I don’t want you to be repulsed by me.”

There’s a beat. Then, you’re turning to face them, sitting so close that your legs brush each other as your free hand comes up to brush a curly, white-pink strand of hair out of their face. (Their hair has been growing out into its natural pinkish color recently now that they’re getting healthier. You remember the day they came running to you, beaming, pulling up their bangs to show you that their roots were pink for the first time in years. Looking at their hair now still makes something warm swell up in your chest.) 

“Komaeda,” you say softly, “whatever it is, it won’t scare me away. I… I don’t think I’m _capable_ of being repulsed by you.” It comes out a little wispier than you intended, but it’s just because he makes you feel like the phrase _‘you take my breath away’_ was never uttered so sincerely as your heart is saying it now. When you cup his cheek, his gaze softens into a look he’s given you too many times to count: eyes half-lidded, lips parted, somehow both intense and demure, serene and insatiable; a quiet want, a look as paradoxical and irresistible as he is. It takes every ounce of willpower in your body to not kiss him silly right here. You swallow hard. You need to focus.

“...Will you tell me?”

Another beat.

“...Okay.” They close their eyes and pull away, resituating themself on the bed so they can face you. The end of their left arm rubs idly at their other sleeve. Their cheeks flush pink. You lick your lips in anticipation, giving their hand another squeeze in reassurance. Whatever it is they’re about to say, it’s clearly very hard for them. You have no idea what to expect.

“Ever since that night,” they mumble, looking shamefully down at their jeans, “I can’t stop thinking about you in… Ah…” They fidget and huff miserably, looking quite a lot like they just took a big bite out of a lemon. “C… Compromising situations.” Their lips twist into a rare frown. “I understand if you’re disgusted with me...”

As they look like they’re about to combust, your face falls. What? All this drama? All this heartache, and it’s over something like _that?_ You feel awful for snickering about it, but before Komaeda can take it the wrong way, you reach over and run your thumb over their cheekbone again. “Oi, Komaeda,” you say gently, “that doesn’t disgust me. I feel the same way about you.”

Komaeda looks utterly stunned. You can feel the way their face burns redder under your thumb before you can see it with your eyes. You smile at them, even as your brows betray some of your incredulity. 

“Hinata-kun,” they stammer, “you… Have those thoughts, too? About me? About someone as ugly and incompetent and revolting as me?” They don’t correct themself this time, but you can tell they’re pretty frazzled. You won’t chew them out for it. Instead, you kiss him on the cheek.

“Okay, first of all, you’re not any of those things.” You keep your tone light. Getting really grave and serious in situations like this makes you nervous, and you’ve found that it stresses Komaeda out, too. “I seriously can’t overstate how much I think you’re literally the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And second, yeah. I have those thoughts about you, too. It’s normal, isn’t it?”

Komaeda takes another moment to comprehend what you just told him. For a moment, he seems like he might take it to heart, but then his face twists up and turns away from your hand. It strikes you that they look… really, really vulnerable right now. Maybe more than you’ve ever seen from them before. They pull their hand away from yours so they can hold themself properly again. You let them, though you do miss the feeling of holding their hand.

They open their mouth once or twice before they actually find their words. When they speak, that vulnerability creeps into their voice, too. “But it’s _constant,_ Hinata-kun..!” They curl in on themself. It’s the closest you’ve seen them come to tears. “Maybe in _high school_ it would be normal, but I’m not like everyone else! I just…”

You scoot on the bed to sit next to them again so you can wrap an arm around them. It surprises you a little when they lean in and let their head fall on your shoulder. It breaks your heart, the way you can feel them trembling like this. You hold them nice and tight. You know they like the pressure.

“All of the time everyone else got, where they could feel these things normally,” he croaks, “I had to spend so stressed out and sick that it turned my hair white..! I never had time to think about love or romance or sex. Even something as simple as puberty, I started years later than everyone else in my class!” You rub at the arm they can’t rub for themself and frown. “And the fact that I was only into boys instead of girls only made things even worse. I was so ashamed, because I was _already_ so different from everyone else. I was so scared of being different _again_ that I didn’t dare to let myself think about it! I never got to have that time where it felt like everyone else was in the same situation as me. Instead, I’m dealing with it all now, when everyone else is already long past that, and…”

They pause, but you don’t interject. They’ve given you a lot to chew on. A lot of it is really confusing, so wildly different from anything you’ve experienced in the way so many things from his life are. Komaeda takes a shaky breath and you look down at the shaggy mop of hair on your shoulder.

“It was hard enough to deal with when it was just occasional thoughts,” he whispers, sounding utterly crestfallen, “but ever since that night, I _can’t stop thinking about it,_ Hinata-kun. I think about sex _all the time._ It makes me feel like some perverted creep…”

You try to think about everything they’ve said to you, but you once again find yourself unable to make sense of your thoughts without getting them out of your head first. You really, really hope you don’t say anything to make them feel even worse. “You know… I obviously can’t understand how it must have felt back then, feeling like you were lagging so far behind everyone else. But… I think what you’re feeling now isn’t as weird as you think it is. It’s… It’s totally normal for guys our age to think about sex all the time.” The tips of your ears heat up again. “I mean, I know I do. It’s embarrassing, but you’re not as alone as you think you are.”

Komaeda picks their head up to look at you. Their eyes are a little watery, but neither your shirt nor their eyelashes are wet, so you know they weren’t crying. You wouldn’t blame them if they were. They blink back the tears in their eyes and bring their hand up to twirl a finger in their hair— another self-soothing habit. You rub little circles into their back with your palm. You get the feeling that they’re waiting for you to keep talking, so you scramble for some words to say while they calm down the rest of the way.

“Honestly… If you talk to any of the guys on the island— hell, even some of the girls, too— I’m pretty sure they’ll all tell you that being in your twenties is a lot more stupid and confusing with that kinda stuff than high school ever was.” You rub at the back of your neck again with your free hand. You’ve never talked about this stuff so frankly before. It’s embarrassing, but now that you’re saying this stuff out loud, it’s nowhere near as awkward as you always feared it would be. You’re not sure if that’s because of the person you’re talking to, or if it’s just part of growing up. “I’m… confused and embarrassed, too. So even if I can’t understand how it felt to be sick, I at least understand that. It doesn’t make you weird.”

Komaeda finally smiles again, and it’s not the forced empty smile he was giving you earlier. The stormy clouds in his eyes are clearing up so he can look at you clearly again. Relief pours off of your sinking shoulders. You smile back at him. Komaeda is pretty reliably swayed by hearing things rationally, which makes it easy to talk them down from misunderstandings. They’re never too prideful to admit that maybe they were mistaken. It’s one of the things you really appreciate about them.

“Thank you, Hinata-kun,” they sigh. “I… really needed to hear that.” You're glad that you said the right thing, even if you feel like you stumbled ass-backward into it. Komaeda settles in their place, still smiling gently even as they train their gaze on the floorboards. They're taking a moment to think over what you said— taking it to heart. It makes your chest squeeze with affection. Finally, a puff of a laugh breaks the silence. Komaeda looks up at you with a big, perfect grin to kill off the rest of your worries. You know they _really_ must be starting to feel better when they kiss your temple and go right back to teasing you the way they always do, even if it's a little milder than usual. “I’m especially relieved to hear that you’re just as much of a pervert as me.”

Reassured as you are by the gradual return of their playful attitude, you still can’t help but groan. Your healthy tan doesn’t stand a chance against your body’s terrible insistence on blushing at the drop of a goddamn hat. Komaeda wheezes through a giggle (a sound that some of your friends find unsettling, but you’re so endeared by that it hurts) and bumps their shoulder against yours. “You’re awfully cute when you get all red like that, Hinata-kun.”

You groan again, louder this time, which only makes him laugh more. You cross your arms. You can’t just let him have the last word like that! “Those are pretty big words coming from you, y’know! _I’m_ not the one who turned bright pink ‘cause he got his bottom lip bit while kissing..!” 

You know you fucked up because Komaeda’s cheeks do darken, but they also give you that striking, paradoxical _look_ of theirs. The chill it gives you makes your hairs stand on end. It only flits across their face for a moment before it’s twisting into a coy, foxlike smile. Their hand slides up your arm. “You really weren’t kidding when you said you think about it all the time, too.” Though they’re ostensibly teasing you, the way they say it sounds breathless, like they’re in awe. You feel like you’ve had the wind knocked out of you, too.

“Yeah,” you breathe, letting your hand mirror his, travelling up his arm. “I meant it.”

That look threatens to resurface on their face, but they lean forward too quickly for you to see it. You half-expect for them to kiss you, but instead you find their lips against your ear, whispering just loud enough to hear over your own heartbeat. The end of their left arm rests against your chest.

“What do you think about, specifically..?”

Your blood has no goddamn clue which direction to rush in, but it sure is rushing. How are you supposed to respond to that? Is he asking you to divulge the things you fantasize about at night? Yeah, duh, clearly that’s what he’s asking for! But— But you can’t just _answer that,_ can you!?

You stammer while your brain tries desperately to catch up and formulate a response. Komaeda giggles and kisses your temple. “I didn’t mean to make you short-circuit, Hinata-kun. Am I coming on too strong?”

You shake your head vigorously and smack your cheeks. Get a grip! You really do want this as much as they do, right? You’re sure they enjoy seeing you flustered, but you meant what you said to them before! You don’t want to miss this opportunity to prove it to them. You want to show them just how much you mean it. You want to show them just how beautifulyou think they are.

You think about them _all the time._

With eyes cast down toward your lap, because you sure as hell can’t get the nerve to say this while looking at them, you huff. 

“...I think about touching you a lot.” 

Perhaps realizing that you’re _actually_ about to indulge them on this, Komaeda shifts to sit more comfortably beside you. They rest their head on your shoulder and their hand on your thigh, which makes you squirm even if it’s through your jeans. You clear your throat. You can do this. Don’t back out now.

“Not just, y’know, down there, but… all over. I think about the sounds you would make, and… and about trying to get you to make more of them.” You swallow hard and press your thighs together in a futile bid to keep yourself from shifting them against each other. You spare a glance at Komaeda and see them in much the same state, lip caught between their teeth and cheeks flushed red. You try to look back at your lap so you can continue, but you can’t pry your eyes away from them. “I-I think about watching you squirm, and… Undressing you, so I can see all of you…”

“Hinata-kun…”

Embarrassment hits you all at once and you turn your head away with your eyes screwed shut. You try desperately to ignore the twitch in your jeans. “I-I’m not as good with words as you are, okay? I don’t know how to explain all of it, so..!”

Komaeda shifts again to straddle your legs, more than a little awkwardly. As sexy as they are, you’re both profoundly aware that neither of you have done this before. They giggle nervously and you do the same. You share a look with them, one where you silently confirm to each other that maybe this is going to be a little weird, and maybe you’ll screw up, and maybe you’ll have to stop if things get too ridiculous, and that you both still want it more than anything regardless. It puts your nerves at ease. Your hands skirt up the backs of their thighs as they settle down on your lap. They drape their arms over your shoulders and lean in just close enough that their face is a little blurry when you look at them.

“Do you want to hear the thoughts that brought me to such a pitiful state, Hinata-kun?” You nod. You don’t think you’ve ever nodded so fast in your life. You nod so eagerly that you almost knock your foreheads together. Electricity courses so strongly through you that even your breaths sound ragged and needy. Their pretty white lashes flutter. Their hand roams under your shirt to rest on your chest, which draws a gasp from you— your chest is _sensitive._ You can feel them shiver as they realize that.

“I kept thinking about how warm you felt, my Hinata-kun…” You lurch for a moment, burning all over. You shout out before you can think better of it and stop yourself.

“Wait!” 

Komaeda jerks away a little. “What is it? Is- Is something wrong?”

“No! No,” you splutter, “nothing is wrong, it’s just… If… If we’re really going to do this…” You furrow your brow, shrinking in on yourself bashfully. “If we’re going to do this, then… Can we call each other by our given names..?”

Komaeda’s eyes widen and sparkle like the night sky at a festival. They beam, all gapped-teeth and rosy cheeks, and rest their forehead against yours once more.

“My _Hajime,_ ”they amend, and apparently you weren’t prepared to hear your name in their perfect voice because a high, shameful sound looses itself from deep in your throat. Komaeda hums from above you. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how your hands roamed under my shirt, or the way your lips fit so perfectly on the junction of my neck. I thought about how it felt like the sun itself was touching me. Maybe you _are_ the sun in disguise, Hajime. Why else would I feel so hot all over every time you look at me?” Your jeans are getting dangerously tight. Your hands smooth up Komaeda’s back under their shirt and you marvel at how soft their skin is. 

“I couldn’t help myself…” they coo, though their voice isn’t as sultry as they’re probably going for. They’re hot for it, too. Their hips keep shifting subtly back and forth, maddeningly out of the range where you need that friction the most. “I touched myself…” Drool gathers at the corner of their lips. “T-Two times already, because I couldn’t stop thinking about you…” They sound just as desperate as you feel. Their hand— idly or intentionally, you can’t really tell— squeezes your chest and sends a shiver down your spine. Paired with the new knowledge that they’ve _touched themself_ to the thought of you, _more than once,_ it’s all too much. You can’t help the way you rock your hips against their weight, nor the way you shiver through another mortifying whine.

“Nagito,” you moan, pulling them closer against you, “ _fuck,_ I need you..!” 

Any pretense of them trying to coyly seduce you is dropped in an instant, because their hips buck and they nod feverishly, clinging to you with a perfect whimper. “Hajime, _please!_ ”

It’s like a haze fills your mind, letting instinct and need and your desperate love for him take over everything else. In a motion that’s a little less disastrous than you were anticipating, you flip him over so he’s on his back beneath you on the bed. Your hands make quick work of your belt and you shuck off your pants and boxers, tossing them aside in a careless heap. Komaeda, pitifully horny and trembling, and working with one fewer hand, is still futilely trying to wriggle free of his tight jeans by the time you look down at him again. You chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry! Hey, let me help, alright?”

Komaeda simmers down just long enough for you to help them out of their pants and boxers before they’re pulling you down into a heated kiss. Your teeth click together once or twice, but you couldn’t care less. Right now, your only drive is to get _more_ of him, to feel more of his skin, to hear more of his adorable noises, to lose yourself in him the way you both want so desperately. Your hands push his shirt up so they can explore his chest, his sides, his hips. He moans into your mouth when your hands land there, parting his long, slender legs so you can slot between them. You never would have expected him to be so flexible. You whine against their lips and comply, shifting to roll your hips down against them. They gasp, and so do you.

Their hand has occupied itself with unbuttoning most of your shirt so they can grope your chest. It makes you feel like you’ve been set on fire, makes you cry out, makes your hips stutter against Komaeda’s narrower ones. They must like that reaction, because they circle their thumb around your nipple again. Your grip on their hips tightens enough to make them yelp. You quickly apologize— but you’re not letting them get off scot free. You lean down and lave your tongue across the join between their neck and their clavicle, the place that made them moan the other night. Their hand scrabbles for purchase in your shirt as they moan again in your ear. Emboldened by your success, you set to work sucking a small mark into their pale neck.

Feeling them writhing underneath you is driving you goddamn wild. Their thighs are shaking, they’re drooling, their flush has spread all the way down to their chest, they’re dripping precum against their stomach… but then, you’re not doing much better, are you? You’re panting and moaning like crazy, and you aren’t exactly helping the mess on their belly. You’d love to draw this out, but you feel like you’re about to explode and, if the distinct absence of any cheeky remarks over the past few minutes is any indication, Komaeda probably feels the same.

“Oi, Nagito,” you groan, “I’m gonna touch us… Is that okay?”

They look down at you with blazing eyes and nod, jolting their hips up against you to prove they mean it. Even like this, they can still find it deep within themself to be a coquettish little tease, and you’ve never felt more in love with someone in your life. One hand parts from their sensitive hips to wrap around both of you at once. The two of you sigh in unison for it. Your hips snap forward, dragging against them, and as their back arches you feel them twitch against your palm. A shameless sound is wrenched from your gut— good _god,_ you are completely undone for him.

Neither of you have much rhythm in the way you roll your hips into your hand, rutting needily against each other, but it turns out that neither of you really need it. As your lips crash into each other, with your moans and whines getting lost amidst Komaeda’s wanton screams (which you’ll be surprised about later), hearts racing in tandem, neither of you last particularly long. It’s Komaeda who warns you first, bapping at your side with the end of their left arm and crying out something unintelligible before they spill over into your hand. You aren’t far behind, fire roiling in the pit of your stomach, you’re so _close,_ and they’re twitching against you, wrapping their arms around you and sighing, they’re so _perfect,_ and their hand is brushing your chest again, and they haven’t stopped kissing you, and, and—!

“ _Fuck,_ Nagito, I _love you..!_ ” It comes out in a garbled sob as you hit your peak and, as you still your shaking hand, they pull you into another kiss. You come down to the sound of their breath mingling with yours and the taste of salt on their lips. In your blissed-out daze, it takes a moment for you to realize what’s out of place about that. You pull away to see tears on their red, ravished cheeks and a big, heartfelt smile. It strikes you that you’ve never had the courage to say the L-word out loud before. Before you can feel too bashful about it, they croak out an, “I love you, too.”

You slump down against their side and bury your nose in their hair, pulling them close against you. Komaeda must be exhausted because even the way they shift to get closer to you is pretty sluggish. You let out a tiny, quiet chuckle. It doesn’t surprise you that they have poor stamina. You take a deep breath in and let it out in a sigh, content to nap now and clean up later. When you woke up this morning, you were afraid you were going to get broken up with, so the emotional whiplash has left you feeling pretty wiped, too.

Your mind drifts in the still quiet of this moment. Nothing compares to this feeling of relief, the feeling of his warmth against you, the feeling of his love. How exactly did you manage to find someone whose shape fits so perfectly into yours? How did you wind up so in love with someone so beautifully contradictory, and how can it feel so effortless? Maybe it’s pointless to ask. Maybe it’s better to just accept it. You’re about to doze off, content in the world where you’ve finally told them how you feel, when you hear Komaeda’s sleepy voice.

“Hajime,” they giggle drowsily, “you came so hard it landed on my chest..!”

Your eyes snap open in disbelief, not because they’re right (which they are), but because you can’t comprehend how they could say something like that so shamelessly not an hour after melting down at the mere _presence_ of their own sexuality! Komaeda is already asleep by the time you open your mouth to say something, and after a moment, you chide yourself for being so surprised in the first place. There’s not a single thing surprising about it. After all, if there’s one thing you can say with absolute certainty, it’s this:

Komaeda Nagito is a person full to bursting with contradictions. 

**Author's Note:**

> it's official... my longest fic ever written now belongs to the otp. (toots a party blower)


End file.
